A Treacherous Viper
by La Sorelli
Summary: One shot. The unmasking scene, a la Leroux mostly. Rather violent, creepy and morbid. A bit of extreme blood-letting; I'm a very twisted being. With a few perhaps Webber-ish or Kay-ish twists. Review please.


Hiding; I'm hiding like a child, beneath the covers and all. I cannot stop shaking and crying. There is blood all over my face, my hands, my neck, smeared on my dress, and down inside my bodice across my breasts. Inside my mouth bleeds as well, from falling so hard to the ground. My door is bolted shut, but it won't keep him out. Not if he really wants in. Yet somewhere in this strange house, he too is hiding and crying, with his horrible face bleeding. It is his blood all over my skin and dress. His dead flesh under my nails…

I thought he would kill me for certain back in that drawing room. With his hands around my throat in that murderous grip, pinning me to the floor with his full weight, bashing my head into the stone...all while screaming obscenities and furious words.

_"Stupid tramp! Ungrateful, devious bitch! Cruel, cruel girl! Feast your eyes and glut your soul upon my accursed ugliness!" he howled, like some rabid, deranged animal._

_ I tried to close my eyes. He took his dead hands and pried them open. I yelped in pain as my eyes were ripped open to look upon that ghastly sight. That skeletal, terrible face! The most horrifying thing I had ever seen! I tried not to scream in horror, but he saw the look of fear on my face; sending him into even worse of an insane frenzy._

_ "You do not like what you see, eh? Damn you! Little vixen! Treacherous viper! Perhaps you think this is also a mask? Then perhaps beneath there lies a man as handsome as Don Juan himself? Come, pull it off as you did the other!" he gestured to his repulsive face, digging his sharp knees into my hips._

_ I shook my head, tears now streaming down my face. "No…please…" I pleaded in a hoarse voice, a voice that barely sounded at all._

_ "No! No? Why not? Don't you want to see? Come, I shall help you, give me your hands!" he reached for my hands, but I tried to hide them by lying on top of them. He was too fast for me and caught them before I could do a thing._

_ "Come now, deceiving, lying, cheating whore!" he roared, yanking my hands to his face, so forcefully I thought he'd snap my wrists. "Take it off!"_

_ And he plunged my fingernails into his corpse-like flesh, running them now his feeble skin until blood was released. I no longer could hold back my screaming._

_ "Stop, please!" I shrieked at an intolerable, bloodcurdling volume. "Please!"_

_ "No one can hear you, traitorous bitch! Man-eating snake! For we are five stories beneath the earth!" Then he laughed, loudly. It was a sound so sinister, so terrifyingly maniacal that it seemed to freeze all the blood in my veins. Up and down his face he ran my nails, his own blood dripping down on to and inside my dress. I sobbed and coughed, choking on my own blood, having nearly bitten a hole in my tongue. My head throbbed where it had been slammed against the wall and floor when he'd thrown me. I did not know what he was. I had only wanted to see the angel's face. If I had known he was a monster, I would have never wanted to see…_

_ When at last he was satisfied that I had torn enough of his rotting flesh to serve his own morbid purpose, he released my hands. Still pinning me down, he drew his face close to mine. His sharp elbows dug into my chest. It took all of my will not to scream again, for I knew if I did, he would surely strangle me without a thought. I turned my head away so his blood would not drip into my face, but in a final act of cruelty he grabbed my hair. With extreme severity, he pulled and twisted at my hair, forcing my head to turn to him. My scalp felt as if it were ripping apart._

_ "Oh, God, please stop!" I cried out in agony, as his skeletal fingers threatened to tear out every curl._

_ "Do not ask for God! God will not save you here! Here you are in hell! Do you not see the demon before you?" he screamed. His blood dripped all over me, into my eyes, nose and mouth. I gagged and pleaded for him to get off of me._

_ "I cannot…breathe!" I sobbed chokingly, blood rising in my saliva. With his fiery eyes still blazing, Erik moved slowly away from me. The pressure on my body was released at last. He sat and stared at me, his ragged breathing rattled in his chest. After only a few moments his psychotic anger faded and he started to realize what had happened, of what he had just done. It was as if he were a different person entirely. The look in eyes was not madness or anger; but sorrow. The deepest most terrible sorrow I have ever seen. He started to shake uncontrollably, collapsed on to his stomach and began to wail. It was the most heart wrenchingly pathetic sound in the world. I shall never forget that sound, not even if I live to be one hundred years old. Into his arms he sobbed; slithering around like a snake. I watched in solemn shock, still lying on the ground, covered in blood, crying as well._

_ "Know…that…I am entirely made of corpse," he cried wretchedly into the floor, his disfigured body wracking. "It is a corpse that loves you…a corpse that yearns for your touch…and a corpse that will never, ever leave you!"_

_ Then without looking at me, he slithered away, crawling on his belly like some strange creature into his bedroom. His bloody tears trailed across the Persian rug. The door slammed shut and only then did I feel safe to stand up. With knocking knees and a nauseous stomach, I unsteadily rose from the floor. Shaking and sobbing, I stumbled to my room, locking the door and diving beneath the bedcovers._

I have been lying here for what feels like hours. Erik's blood is dry on my skin and peeling away. I must look horrific. There are no mirrors down here to see. My heart is throbbing with pain and fear and pity like I have never felt before. I can still hear his echoing cries; still see that look in his eyes. At the removal of the mask he became a monster. He turned into some animalistic creature. I'd stripped away his dignity, his protection, and his sanity.

He called me cruel. Now I realize how cruel I truly was. No doubt this pitiable man had been tormented his entire life for being so deformed. His mask kept him shielded from such cruelty. Yet the mask could never hide what lurked inside of him. I had been introduced to the other side of Erik; the dark side. I am frightened of him. I do not wish to meet that person again.

When at last I have stopped crying and somewhat composed myself, I know what I must do. I will apologize to Erik, grovel if I must, lie if necessary. I'll do anything to keep that horrible thing from resurfacing. I drag myself from the bed and go into the great, green, marble bathroom attached to my room. With a loud clanging of pipes, I turn the water on and let the elegant Turkish bath begin to fill. I peel off my dirty dress and stand there, naked, holding my head in my hands, listening to the water exhaustedly.

_"I don't like this place. Not at all…"_

In the bathtub I scrub myself so hard that my skin is red, using an entire bar of expensive soap. Erik's dried blood floats in the water in small, red flecks. I wash my hair thoroughly, trying to get his deathly scent out of it. I push a rough sponge beneath my fingernails, scarping out his horrible white flesh. It floats atop the water with the blood. I stay in the bathtub until the water is cold and the idea of floating about in Erik's flesh and blood grows too unbearable

I put on a fresh dress, a simple, grey thing, made of very soft cotton. Everything in my wardrobe is so beautiful, so meticulously chosen. He must have spent thousands of francs on such expensive clothing. And all for me; down to the last silk stocking. I choose the plainest dress on purpose. I do not feel worthy of the others after causing their buyer such anguish.

For a long while I sit on my bed, allowing my hair to dry. I stare at the writing desk. A pair of huge, silver scissors sits on top. I begin to consider stabbing myself with them. He'll surely keep me here now as prisoner. As much pity as I feel for him, I cannot stay here. I cannot be trapped in this dark, awful place. Death seems the only way out…

"No." I tell myself firmly. "No suicide. Suicide will send you straight to hell; a hell even worse than this one."

I do not know how much time has passed when I finally decide to face him. I creep through the strange stone halls of his house, fearing my own footsteps. The wall sconces that are constantly lit cast eerie, bouncing shadows across the walls. I can feel fear in my throat, but I swallow it down. When I enter the drawing room, a fire is lit, and Erik sits in a chair, his back turned to me. I approach his chair, the fire crackles.

The beautiful room around us seems foreboding suddenly and terribly claustrophobic. He is staring into the fire, still unmasked. I look at him fleetingly, only to notice that he's cleaned away all the blood. Then quickly, I look away. He does not seem to notice me until I speak.

"Erik," I begin nervously, looking at the wall behind him. "I am so very sorry for what happened. I should not have been so curious. You told me not to touch the mask. You warned me. I did not listen."

I pause. From the corner of my eye, I see him gazing at me. Still, I cannot manage to look straight at him. I think he notices this, because he sighs sadly and makes a half-hearted noise as if to say, "Continue."

"I hope you will forgive me and know that…" I stumble on my deceitful words, "I do not fear your face any longer." I can almost taste my lie. "Erik," with great hesitance, I lower my eyes and make myself look at him. My skin crawls and my heart races, but I do not act frightened. I make sure to not show any fear in my eyes as I look upon that horrifying face. "You've shown me your face. I am looking at it now, without fear. I am not cowering. And if cower from you, know that is only in awe of your great genius."

Lies, all of it. Bitter lies to solve a problem temporarily. I hold my breath, awaiting a reply. Erik's eyes, deep, sunken gold, fill with tears once more. This time, tears of gratefulness or perhaps happiness. Though I do not think he has the capability to really be happy. He slides from his chair and kneels at my feet.

"Oh, blessed woman…beautiful, dear angel…" he whispers tearfully. He clutches the hem of my grey skirt and kisses the cloth, over and over again. The entire time murmuring, "How I love you."

He does not notice that I look away, cringing and closing my eyes in disgust. He has told me so many lies. Why is it that I feel as if my single lie is so much more damaging? 

In the end, I don't think either of us will be happy.

In fact, I'm certain of it.


End file.
